


Nothing but Regrets in this Line of Work

by JinxedForever



Series: Jinx's Overwatch One Shots [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (a tiny bit), Amputation, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is an Angel, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blackwatch, Blackwatch (Overwatch) - Freeform, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Deadlock Gang, Español | Spanish, Fear, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, How Jesse loses his arm, Hurt, Hurt Jesse McCree, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Jesse McCree Has PTSD, Jesse McCree Speaks Spanish, Jesse McCree-centric, Loss of Limbs, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Men Crying, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Mission Related, Missions, Missions Gone Wrong, One Shot, Overwatch Family, POV Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Panic, Panic Attacks, Parental!Gabriel Reyes, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Protective Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes Has Issues, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes Speaks Spanish, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes has PTSD, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes is a Softie, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes-centric, Regret, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Serious Injuries, Team Talon (Overwatch), Tension, Violence, Whump, Young Jesse McCree, how is that not a tag?, i'm sure - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedForever/pseuds/JinxedForever
Summary: It was Gabe’s damned fault. Jesse would die here, left to rot on the floor of a dirty warehouse alongside a mentor who was no better than the men in Deadlock he’d taken him from. He’d promised him a better life, promised to teach him how to be a good man. What a joke. This scrawny, energetic kid who could shoot better than any full grown man Gabe had ever known, with a beaming smile and bright eyes and a soft face, round with youth, was hopeful, and Gabe had never known hope. Jesse was emotional, angry, but also kind-hearted and charismatic and warm. And he would die like filth alongside Gabe, and Gabe would never be forgiven.Feat. a lot of cursing, Jesse losing an arm, and Gabe trying so, so hard to be a good dad.
Relationships: Jesse McCree & Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Jesse McCree & Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes & Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Jinx's Overwatch One Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666648
Comments: 13
Kudos: 150





	Nothing but Regrets in this Line of Work

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed some Dad!Gabe and Jesse, and I've always wanted to write something about Jesse losing his arm, so here we are. Needed to get this out of my system, and I liked it enough to get it spiffed up for you all to read it! Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are, of course, much appreciated!!

Even when Gabe put the back-breaking work into planning missions down to the second, they often went to shit. It was no surprise to him, after the fact, that the one mission in years he’d strode into with a simple plan and too much confidence went to fucking hell. If only he’d left Jesse out of it.

As was expected of him, Gabe was always prepared for things to take a turn for the worse, but this time, on the tip from one of his buddies back in military school, he hadn’t taken the proper precautions, and it had cost them. Turns out even hand-picked super soldier candidates could be turned against the world if the price was right. Gabe wondered what it was that tipped him over the edge. Money? Fame? Sex? Maybe even all of the above.

Gabe was going to kill him. Slowly.

Jesse’s severed arm had twitched when it hit the floor, bright red arterial blood splattering across the dirt. His guttural scream had damn near deafened Gabe, and he almost wished it had, so he wouldn’t have had to hear the shrieks and mewling whimpers his charge had made as Gabe dragged his scrawny ass to cover. The imagination of civilians, or even the most brilliant actors on the big screen, couldn’t begin to mimic the way a man sounded in true, blinding agony. Gabe was achingly familiar with the soundtrack.

They’d somehow managed to get a headstart on the rest of the troops by the time Jesse had been injured, and the man who’d got him had taken off as soon as Jesse’d collapsed against Gabe, so they had a minute, maybe two, to get the bleeding under control. Jesse babbled incoherently as Gabe yanked the belt off his pants and circled it around Jesse’s stump, cinching it tight enough for his skin to pull and wrinkle. Jesse cried out, his other arm weakly swatting in Gabe’s general direction. Gabe pinned him upright by the shoulder with one hand and used the other to pop open a healing canister to cauterize the wound. He forced the little can into using its full power in a short burst so Jesse wouldn’t bleed out on the spot.

Unfortunately, forcing the tech to operate outside of its scripted function meant it didn’t have the time to numb Jesse before it burned his skin back together. Jesse lurched forward, crying out at the sensation, and Gabe was forced to pull Jesse to his chest, wrapping his thighs around Jesse’s hips and forcing the kid into a headlock so his writhing didn’t ruin his chances of survival. Jesse bellowed out a curse and Gabe swore in turn, shoving his forearm into Jesse’s open mouth to silence him. He wished he’d done it with something more sanitary, but it was too late now. Jesse’s teeth sunk into Gabe’s arm, and he quietly breathed through the pinpricks of pain. The bite marks were sure to scar. A permanent reminder of Gabe’s failure.

They were outnumbered badly. The misdirection of kicking Jesse’s mangled, severed arm off the balcony to the other side of the bridge below them had bought them a few extra minutes, but now Gabe could hear boots marching closer to their position. He turned off and pocketed the healing canister when it fizzled and sparked, loosening his hold on Jesse in the process. Jesse lay limp like the dead in his arms, mouth lined with dark blood and hanging open, red, puffy eyes twitching back and forth, unfocused.

Gabe swore under his breath, getting up into a crouch and grabbing the back of Jesse’s jacket. He wrenched open the door of a tiny shipping container a few feet from their cover and dragged Jesse backwards towards it, praying they hadn’t left obvious traces behind. Gabe crammed himself into the small opening and grappled with Jesse’s remaining limbs to get him inside with him. He ended up having to situate the younger man between his legs, pressing Jesse’s back to his chest as he pulled the doors of the container shut tight. Gabe looped his jacket through the bars and tied a complicated knot with the sleeves, eliminating all but a sliver of light in the enclosed space.

Jesse stirred a bit as the darkness closed in on them. The kid had never been a fan of the dark, or of being crammed into small spaces. He even got jittery when they took the smaller transports. They didn’t have a choice now, though. The troops were getting closer, sniffing them out. It was all they could do to stay quiet and still and hope that backup would come, or that the Talon enforcers were as idiotic as they seemed.

Jesse’s body began to tremble, and Gabe couldn’t tell if it was shock from the blood loss, a panic attack, or simply sobbing. Maybe it was all three. If he used up too much energy freaking out, he’d be dead within minutes. Gabe needed to calm him down. He slid his arms around the kid’s stomach and pressed him close.

“It’s okay cariño, I’ve got you,” Gabe murmured.

He’d be damned if he let anything else happen to his kid.

Jesse twitched, a half-aborted sob wrenching out of his throat, back stiff against Gabe’s chest. He felt something warm against the front of his shoulder, slowly seeping into his shirt. He groped around in a panic, feeling along the tender stump of Jesse’s arm, and discovered that the cauterization process hadn’t been effectively completed. He was still bleeding, which meant they probably had left a trail leading right up to their hiding spot. Gabe cursed, and Jesse flinched away violently as Gabe touched the wound, crying out wordlessly.

Jesse began to babble nonsensical sounds, writhing in Gabe’s tight grip.

“Shit,” Gabe grit out. He let go of Jesse’s stump and wrapped a bloodied hand around Jesse’s stomach. His other hand groped around for Jesse’s mouth, and he clamped his fingers over it hard enough that Jesse’s protests died in his throat. “You’ve gotta be quiet, or they’ll find us. You understand?”

Jesse weakly fought his grip, shaking his head no.

“It’s Gabe, it’s Gabe, I’ve got you, Jess. Please, stop struggling.”

He pulled Jesse’s head back so it was resting against his shoulder. Gabe heard the pound of heavy boots against the ground only feet away. He shifted his legs so they were covering Jesse’s, curling the kid’s feet away from the opening of the container. Sweat beaded on his brow. If Talon found them now, they’d be dead in seconds. Fish in a barrel, and Gabe had put them there.

He rubbed a thumb up and down Jesse’s stomach in an attempt to soothe him. He felt Jesse’s tears pooling against the fingers pressed over his mouth. Gabe was scaring him, but he didn’t have a choice. Better scared than dead. The Talon troops were talking. Gabe couldn’t make out a word, but he could hear the sounds of the other shipping containers around them being opened.

They were so fucked.

It was Gabe’s damned fault. Jesse would die here, left to rot on the floor of a dirty warehouse alongside a mentor who was no better than the men in Deadlock he’d taken him from. He’d promised him a better life, promised to teach him how to be a good man. What a joke. This scrawny, energetic kid who could shoot better than any full grown man Gabe had ever known, with a beaming smile and bright eyes and a soft face, round with youth, was hopeful, and Gabe had never known hope. Jesse was emotional, angry, but also kind-hearted and charismatic and warm. And he would die like filth alongside Gabe, and Gabe would never be forgiven.

Gabe watched, dread curling in his chest, as gloved fingers wormed their way between the crack in the doors of their container. He pulled Jesse closer, if that were even possible, and prayed to a god he’d long abandoned. Jesse froze, breathing shallowly, and Gabe was sure he was staring, wide-eyed and afraid, at the same sight he was seeing. Jesse’s hand scrabbled to hold onto Gabe’s, pressed against his stomach. Gabe could feel Jesse’s heartbeat in his hands. A slice of light peeled across his thigh.

The warehouse shook, the earth rumbling beneath them, and the Talon goon that had been seconds away from discovering and executing them shrunk away, the communicator on their belt crackling to life with frantic orders. Jesse let out a shuddering breath and relaxed, the fight ebbing from his body. Gabe knew better. They’d been saved from one, but the fight wasn’t over. Another Talon lackey could stumble upon them just as easily.

Gabe held Jesse as the minutes ticked by. He murmured Spanish comforts into the kid’s hair as Jesse alternated between curling into himself and making himself small, and thrashing about, fighting Gabe’s grip on him. One minute he’d squeeze his eyes shut and turn his face away from the opening and the next he’d stare, lifeless, at the tiny beam of light pouring in. Gabe knew there was a reason for Jesse’s fear of this exact situation, but he’d never gotten the kid to tell him. He listened to the sounds of fighting outside and tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the warm, sticky liquid sinking down his left side.

He hated the waiting. He knew it would make the memories, the trauma, of this situation all that much worse. He knew that the longer they sat there, Jesse in agonizing pain over loosing a limb with no real medical assistance, the more each detail would solidify itself in their brains. The cooling blood, the aching cramps seizing in Gabe’s legs, the raw fear of being found.

Gabe never hated his line of work more than he did that night, stuffed into a shipping container made for transporting small crates of food, holding a kid barely old enough to grow his own stubble to his chest and waiting to die.

They sat there for what seemed like hours. Gabe wasn’t sure if he could feel anything past his thighs anymore. Jesse was eventually overcome by his body’s exhaustion, and sat listlessly in Gabe’s arms, crying softly. Eventually the sounds of fighting died down, and footsteps started towards their container again. He heard the one to their right being wrenched open, and his heart thrashed with renewed vigor. Who had won? Who was about to find them?

He thanked God for the first time in seven years when nimble fingers cut through his hoodie and peeled open the container, revealing the angelic face of Overwatch’s best medic, Mercy. Gabe slumped backwards, eyes rolling closed for a moment, and let his hands slide off Jesse. Jesse, for his part, didn’t try to move, but he still spasmed with quiet sobs. Mercy’s face contorted with shock, then sadness, as she knelt down in front of them and reached out a hand for Jesse.

Jesse flinched, curling into Gabe’s chest and letting out a soft whine, the fingers of his remaining hand fisting in Gabe’s shirt.

“It’s alright, Jess, she’s going to help you,” Gabe muttered softly, pushing Jesse out of his lap.

Jesse moaned, falling forward onto his knees and nearly faceplanting. Mercy caught him by the shoulders and held him close to her chest, mouthing to Gabe silently to ask if Jesse’s arm was recoverable. There was no way; he shook his head. She closed her eyes.

“Alright, let’s get you on a gurney, okay McCree? Up we go. We’ll get you patched up and safe at home in a jiffy,” Mercy chimed, giving Jesse a small smile.

Jesse seemed to come back to himself a little, drawling, “wha’ever you say, Doc,” under his breath and offering a dopey grin somewhere in her general direction as the sedatives in the Caduceus staff began to take effect.

He convulsed and choked when he was wrestled onto the gurney, and Mercy continued to comfort him as he was carried toward the extraction point. A nameless face appeared in Gabe’s peripheral, asking if he was hurt and offering a hand to help him up. Gabe denied it, stumbling to his feet on screaming legs and surveying the scene. Not a single Talon soldier left standing, but he couldn’t spot the bastard that had taken Jesse’s arm, or Gabe’s shitty informant. No matter, he would find them.

Gabe would personally carve their regrets into their skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little fic! I don't have any plans to continue it, but hopefully it wrapped up well enough that it doesn't feel incomplete. I just had this vision in my head for a couple scenes in this, and I had to get them out on the screen. Thank you so very much for reading, kudos and comments are very much appreciated!! I hope you have a lovely day!
> 
> Twitter: @Jinxed__Forever  
> [Link To My Twitter](https://twitter.com/Jinxed__Forever)  
> Tumblr: @jinxed-forever  
> Instagram: @jinxed_forever


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